


Music of Flesh

by mssrj_335



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Angels, Bad Flirting, Familiar bonding, Family Business AU, Hurt/Comfort, I think that covers it..., M/M, Major Character Injury, Sabriel - Freeform, Shameless Smut, Some angst, Switch Gabriel, Switch Sam Winchester, Telepathic Bond, Witches and Familiars, creature!Gabriel, depictions of violence, gratuitous use of nicknames, ish, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have taken a vamp case in Baltimore.  When it goes bad, in the usual Winchester fashion, Sam is rescued by a man named Gabriel, and he is definitely more than he seems.  Sam is wary, but there’s an undeniable attraction between them.  Will Gabriel be willing to help Sam save his brother?  If Sam learns Gabriel’s secret, will it be enough to kill for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music of Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in the set of the Soul Music collection, all part of my own little Family Business AU. AU after season two or three, no angels. There is some gore and violence, so be warned!
> 
> This is my second work, the first in this fandom, and a companion piece is in the works, but it's kind of slow going. If anything looks bad or weird, please please please let me know. Self-edited, so please forgive me.

 

Sam groaned.

 

He was fairly certain that a few of his ribs had just been cracked in his impact with the solid brick wall behind him. The vampire blocking his way out of the alley hissed happily, kicking Sam’s machete behind him. Sam wheezed and looked up from the asphalt. His face hurt where the vamp had beat the everliving shit out of him. His knuckles were bleeding into the dirty puddles on the street and his ankle burned. Didn’t feel broken, but didn’t feel good. He was trying to figure out a way to get his knife back and _not get killed_ when a figure snuck into the dark behind the vamp. Sam panted and narrowed his eyes, scrambling to his feet and preparing to dive past the vamp to get to his knife when the second body emerged with a sickening _schlick_.

 

Or, more accurately, the vamp’s _head_ separated from his body with a sickening _schlick_ and the figure behind him smirked triumphantly when the body collapsed.

 

“Looks like you could use a hand, bucko,” the man said, shouldering a machete that looked two sizes too big for him and taking a sucker out of his mouth.

 

Sam’s eyes widened and he stared, knees bent to sprint. The man was short, much shorter than Sam, and didn’t look like he even had the muscle to behead something as easily as he had. Sam received a mischievous smile for his staring, instead of a more hostile look he’d been expecting. His savior chuckled and flipped a stray piece of brown hair out of his eyes as Sam took a cautious step back. 

 

“It’s alright,” he said, popping the cherry-red candy back into his mouth, “I’m one of the good guys, gorgeous.”

 

“Who are you?” Sam asked with a shake of his head, thrown by the man’s demeanor.

 

“Call me Gabriel,” he replied with a cocksure tilt of his head. His eyes wandered, and Sam felt his face get hot. “You look like shit. And something as nice-looking as you shouldn’t look like that. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

Sam hesitated, but followed—limped, more like—after Gabriel out of the alley and out to the street. Gabriel sheathed his machete and slung it across his back, then picked Sam’s up with a skip and tucked it under his jacket. He sauntered up to a small, fast-looking motorcycle, tossing a helmet in Sam’s direction.

 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Sasquatch,” Gabriel said with a grin at Sam’s dubious expression. “She’s got it where it counts.”

 

Sam turned the helmet over in his hands and pursed his lips, but didn’t move to put it on. “It’s Sam. Where’s my brother?”

 

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at him and threw a leg over the seat. “Don’t know about a brother, kiddo. You’re the only person I’ve seen.”

 

Sam shifted foot to foot, glancing around nervously. “I need to find Dean. We got separated and—”

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but coaxed Sam with an upturned palm. “You won’t find him with a sprained ankle and cracked ribs, Sammy. Let me get you fixed up, then we can do the whole searching to the ends of the earth thing.”

 

When Sam didn’t say anything or move to get on the back of the bike, Gabriel sighed noisily. “All right,” he said, pulling a phone out of his pocket. A quick dial, then he shot a smirk at Sam and answered the call with gusto. “Charlie! My favorite feisty flamer. I got a favor to ask.”

Sam couldn’t make out the response, but the person on the phone seemed to be giving Gabriel an earful. He suppressed a grin when Gabriel pressed his hand over the microphone and started making pained faces at him.

 

“Char—Charlie! You can tell me all about my bad timing later. I need you to get your eyes on. Looking for a guy, Dean—” He twirled a hand.

 

“Winchester,” Sam prompted.

 

“—Winchester,” Gabriel finished. “Got the guy’s brother. Find him for me, will ya?”

 

Sam frowned at Gabriel, but kept quiet until he got off the phone.

 

“Yeah, ok Charlie. Keep me posted.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “There. Let’s go.”

 

“There?” Sam echoed. “What good is that gonna do, exactly?”

 

Gabriel shifted on the bike and licked his sucker. “Charlie’ll find him, don’t you worry about that. Now come on, before some more show up. I’m good, but I can’t take ‘em all on.”

 

Sam sighed, but slipped the helmet on and gingerly got on the back of the motorcycle. Surprisingly, it didn’t sink to the ground under his weight. He did, however, have to sit forward and wrap his arms around Gabriel’s waist to keep himself on the thing. The man was short, and Sam could wrap his arms all the way around him, but he was solid and warm. Despite his earlier reservations, Sam got the feeling Gabriel could put him on his ass in no time at all, and the thought that Gabriel might not be exactly what he seemed dogged him as they zipped through traffic into the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gabriel pulled up to a large, suburban house just outside the Baltimore city limits, which struck Sam as odd. He waited while the taller man slid off the bike, then wheeled it up under a carport.  Sam tried to take a step forward, but stumbled on the gravel drive.  Gabriel returned, quiet as a whisper, and slipped an arm around Sam's waist. When he tried to slink away, Gabriel tightened his grip and said, “Now Sammich, I’d really rather you not break your pretty face when you go ass over elbows on that stupid foot of yours. Just let me…”

 

Sam’s shoulders sagged, but he muttered a small, “Thank you,” anyway. Gabriel kept a firm hand on his hip, guiding Sam to the door, past the security keypad, and into a homey-looking living room.  Sam gingerly lowered himself onto a hideous blue and yellow floral couch while Gabriel disappeared around the corner into the hallway.

 

“Make yourself at home, Sammy,” he heard him call. “I’ll be right back!”

 

Sam looked around at the room and frowned. It didn’t look like any hunter’s house he’d ever been to. There weren’t any lore book--just pleasure reading--no paraphernalia hanging around.  There were rows and rows of movies around a giant TV and knickknacks of every kind clashing with the bright colors of the room. In fact, it was the most eclectic, _non_ -hunter room he’d possibly ever been in. Sam scooted to the edge of the couch, trying to make a pass around the space, but hissed when he tried to stand. He pulled up his pant leg and inspected his ankle. _Shit_.  The leather of his boot bulged slightly around the swelling of his ankle, the skin above it angry and red.  Then, Gabriel reappeared silently in the doorway, a bowl of steaming water and towel in one hand and a bag of ice in the other. Sam jumped, wincing when his ribs creaked. _Double shit_.

 

“Chillax, and prop that foot up for me,” Gabriel said.

 

Sam looked apprehensively at him, then set his foot carefully on the glass coffee table. Gabriel knelt and unlaced his boot with sure fingers.

 

“So what brings you to Baltimore?” Gabriel asked jovially as he eased Sam's boot off and dropped it on the floor. “The weather?”

 

Sam scoffed. “My brother and I were hunting. We didn’t know someone was already taking care of it,” he replied, feeling a little more at ease when Gabriel traced warm fingers carefully over his ankle. He hissed when Gabriel put pressure in a couple places, but didn’t pull away.

 

“I’m always on the case. Doesn’t seem like it’s broken.  But you’re in luck: I still get to play nurse,” Gabriel said with a wink, gently putting the bag of ice on Sam’s foot. He grabbed the washcloth from the bowl and twisted most of the water from it before pressing it to the skin broken on Sam’s knuckles and wiping away the blood there.

 

“How’d you find me?” Sam asked, settling carefully into the cushions.

 

“See that’s the neat thing,” Gabriel said. “Me and a few other compadres around here are kind of permanent base hunters. Charlie’s all wired into the feeds of almost every camera in the city. She found you.”

 

Sam raised his eyebrows, impressed. “And you were just…in the area?”

 

Gabriel wet the washcloth again and started on his face, delicately cleaning blood from his forehead. “Yup,” he replied succinctly. “Been huntin’ those vamps for a while, but always seems to be more than we can get. I was actually lookin’ for their nest when Charlie called me. Plus, who’d give up the chance to save a Winchester?”

 

Sam started. “What?”

 

Gabriel laughed. “Come on, Sam. You and your brother are pretty famous in this business. Imagine what it’ll do for _my_ reputation when it gets out that I saved your ass.”

 

Sam relaxed at the shorter man's easy smile.  “So you’re the heavy lifter of this operation?” he asked with a crooked smile.

 

Gabriel scoffed. “Laugh all you want, Gigantor. Just ‘cause I’m short don’t mean I can’t kick your ass from here to Tuesday. My brother usually hunts with me, but he’s out of town. Charlie does the findin’, kiddo named Kevin does the research, and I kick ass.”

 

Sam chuckled.

 

“Well,” Gabriel amended, “me and five or six others.”

 

“Sounds like you got a pretty good setup,” Sam said. “So Charlie will be able to find my brother then?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel said with a reassuring pat. “Damn cockroach couldn’t hide from that girl if she didn’t want it to. She’ll have him found in a day or less.”

 

Sam sat still as Gabriel wiped blood away from his split lip, then sighed deeply and closed his eyes, getting comfortable on the couch.

 

“Hey, hey now, none of that yet,” Gabriel said, giving him a little shake. “Let’s check those ribs.”

 

Sam flushed slightly, but when Gabriel slunk to the side of his knee and tugged on the hem of his shirt, he let him pull it up. Gabriel stopped, left hand anchoring Sam’s shirt against his chest, and he stared.

 

“Just—do it,” Sam prompted, feeling his face burn.

 

“If you insist,” Gabriel replied, gritting his teeth and wincing apologetically.

 

He pressed gently again Sam’s chest, clever fingers tracing ligaments and bones from his front to his sides. Sam’s body twitched in interest, and he leaned minutely up into the touch. But Gabriel hissed and stopped, fingers lingering for a few moments on Sam’s left side.

 

“Deep breath,” said Gabriel in a low voice.

 

Sam sucked in air he didn’t know he needed and immediately groaned, clenching his teeth and capturing Gabriel's forearms in a tight grip. Gabriel’s lips parted and his eyes flashed. He stroked soothing circles on Sam's ribs, wavering patterns and indiscernible words. Sam felt the pain lessen slowly as Gabriel kneaded his skin, and his head started to spin.

 

“All right?” Sam asked in a voice hoarser than he’d intended.

 

Gabriel swallowed. “A little crack,” he said thickly. “Nothing to worry about.”

 

They stayed frozen for a few seconds, Gabriel’s hand on Sam’s racing heart, eyes tracing exposed, flushing skin.  Then, Gabriel cleared his throat and pulled away.

 

“C’mon. Gotta get you cleaned and fed.” He pulled the towel out from under the bowl of pink water and stood, holding a hand out for Sam to grab. “Ready for a shower?”

 

Sam blinked at the abrupt loss of contact and sat forward, easing his foot back to the floor. “You know, you don’t have to do this,” he said softly, shifting and trying to relieve the tightness in his jeans. “I’ve got a hotel room in town.”

 

“Nonsense! I’m always lookin’ for more pretty things to look at,” Gabriel said, smirk firmly back in place.

 

Sam stiffened slightly, then he scoffed when Gabriel’s honey eyes sparkled with mischief. He grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him upright, standing still with a possessive hand on his hip until Sam found his footing. He led Sam down a narrow hallway, past pictures of himself and someone that Sam guessed to be his brother. They didn’t look terribly similar, just in the shape of an ear here or a quirk of the lips there, but Sam liked Gabriel’s smile. He wanted to see more of it.

 

“Could you eat?” he asked after he ushered Sam in the bathroom. He leaned in the door and leered at Sam. “I could eat. Clean up and I’ll find us somethin’ to munch by the time you’re done.”

 

Sam nodded and smiled helplessly when Gabriel shut the door and padded back down the hall. Sam turned on the water and stripped while he waited for it to warm. He ached all over, but after a quick test, he stepped under the spray and felt relief seep into his bones. It’d been a while since he’d been beat so thoroughly; it was all he could manage to get into the shower and not fall, knees unsteady and head spinning still. The thought of Gabriel rushing to his aid--again--didn’t do much for Sam’s ego when he considered what a fall in the shower might be like.

 

After a quick wash and dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist and inspected his clothes.  Immediately, he wrinkled his nose. Dirty water and blood had soaked into the denim of his jeans, and his flannel shirt had been ripped in a few places.  Certainly, they were in no condition to wear at the moment.  He sighed and hobbled out to the kitchen, holding firm to the thin towel. Gabriel’s phone was playing music from the bar and the man was dancing in front of the refrigerator as he pulled out fixings for sandwiches.

 

“What…” Gabriel trailed off, looking Sam up and down when he turned around. “Er, whatcha want on your sandwich, Sammich?”

 

Sam huffed a laugh. “Could I, uh, borrow some clothes first?” he asked, ducking his head in embarrassment.

 

Gabriel stared for just a second longer, then seemed to snap to. “Second door on the right, my brother’s room. He’s smaller than you, but his clothes should fit better than mine.”

 

Sam smiled his thanks and limped back down the hallway. The room was spartan, just a few knick-knacks here and there, a dark blue galaxy-print bedspread the only thing of note. The top drawer of an old bureau had underwear and old white shirts, the next had pants. Sam inspected a pair of jeans before he decided he’d rather not try, based on the size of them. Whoever this brother was, he was bigger than Gabriel, but not by much, and Sam sighed. He opened another drawer and found a pair of black gym shorts, but the thought of changing in a stranger's personal space made him feel uneasy.  So, he hobbled back to the bathroom and pulled on the largest cotton shirt, underwear, and pair of shorts he'd found. When he made it back to the kitchen, Gabriel had a massive sandwich sitting on the bar with a large glass of milk.

 

“Thanks again,” Sam said when he’d settled comfortably onto the barstool.

 

“I figured you’d be a meat man,” Gabriel said with a wink.

 

“No,” Sam said quietly, “I mean, thank you for, you know, saving me. I’m not sure how I can repay you for that, and this.”

 

Gabriel’s face softened and he looked surprised. “Wasn’t nothing, Sam,” he said with a small smile. "I'd save you any day.”

 

Sam stared at Gabriel curiously until the man cleared his throat and took a bite of his own sandwich. “So how’d you end up in Baltimore?” Sam asked.

 

“Ran away from Mommy and Daddy,” Gabriel replied through a mouthful of ham. “Set up shop on the farthest side of the US from ‘em.”

 

Sam frowned. “Why?” he asked. He couldn’t really imagine leaving Dean permanently behind, even after his time at Stanford.

 

Gabriel’s honey eyes turned dark. “Lied to me. Made my brothers fight constantly,” he replied shortly. “So here I am!”

 

Sam’s ears burned and his brow pinched.  He asked, “What about the brother that came with you?”

 

Gabriel smiled again, and immediately Sam felt better. “Cas? He’s the baby. And he’s the most loyal son of a bitch you’ll ever find. Couldn’t bear to see me go, I guess. What about Dean? How’d you get separated?”

 

Sam sighed. “We got a call from a friend of ours, Bobby Singer. He said there’d been talk of a big nest up this way, so we packed up. We’d been scouting the area. He had been driving around, I was canvassing a few places. That’s when the vamp got the jump on me. Came at me in one of the old apartment buildings I was in. And that’s where you showed up.”

 

Gabriel hummed.  "Our researcher is on pretty friendly terms with a Mr. Singer.  Pretty handy in a tight situation when we've run out of ideas, I can tell you that."

 

Sam smiled but didn’t say anything more, a comfortable silence descending as they finished their sandwiches.  When Sam pushed the plate away, Gabriel whisked it into the sink.  Sam carefully placed his feet on the cool hardwood floor until Gabriel came around the edge of the bar and offered a hand to help him stand. Sam gingerly put some weight on his foot and clenched his teeth. It hurt, _god_ it hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable anymore. Gabriel shouldered his way under Sam’s arm and propped him up, carefully minding his ribs, and took slow steps to the back of the house. His hand settled again on Sam’s hip, and the taller man suppressed a little frisson of anticipation that ran up his spine.

 

“You can sleep in my room,” Gabriel said when, at last, he opened the last door at the end of the hall. “The bed’s ten times better than Cas’.”

 

 

 

As it turned out, Gabriel wasn’t lying. Sam sat on the edge of the bed and nearly fell over backwards it was so soft. Gabriel snorted at his face as he snuck to the bathroom for a wrap, leaving a promise that he'd be right back.  Sam took a second to look around. Unlike Cas’, Gabriel’s room was _full_ of stuff. There were books strewn everywhere, movie posters hanging from the walls, and piles of paper here and there with notes scribbled all over them. Bags of open candy sat beneath the desk light and clothes littered the floor by the door. Sam smiled until his imagination took an interesting turn and he thought about Gabriel losing those clothes.  He vaguely wondering if his body looked as good as it had felt when Sam held onto him.

 

Sam shook his head and quieted his imagination until Gabriel returned.  When he knelt on the floor beside the bed, placing Sam’s foot gently on his knee, Sam’s lips parted and his mind started to run again.  He watched with hungry eyes as Gabriel start the wrap on his foot with sure hands, but he hissed when he started wrapping his ankle.

 

“Sorry kiddo,” Gabriel said apologetically, soothing his fingers over Sam’s heated skin.

 

Sam’s treacherous mind pictured those fingers skating over other pieces of heated flesh again and he flushed. Either Gabriel didn’t notice or he decided not to comment, because he finished wrapping Sam’s ankle carefully and helped him under the covers.

 

“I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you, make sure your noodle isn’t cooked,” Gabriel promised as he slid out the door. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

 

Sam settled back against the pillows, quietly wishing Gabriel would have stayed, until he drifted to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Sam was running again. He couldn’t see what he was running from, but he knew he was trapped. He didn’t have anything; no salt, no gun, not even a knife. But the more he ran, the more he slowed, his ankle feeling like it would break more and more with every step. He was gasping for air, but it felt like he was drowning. Then he looked down and figured out why. He was stuck. Stuck in a pond of coagulated blood, sinking further and further into it. He cried for his father, for Bobby, for Dean, but no one was there and no one was coming. Whatever had been chasing him lurked in the shadows, smiling horribly as it watched him be sucked into the viscous solution. He felt bony hands pulling on his ankles and he was going down _downdown **down**_. He couldn’t breathe. There was nothing but a sea of red. He thrashed and kicked and tried to break free, but something had rooted him to the bottom of the bloody pond. Then something gold flashed in the red, and a faint, faint voice called his name. With a heaving breath, he screamed Gabriel’s name—

 

And woke up.

 

Gabriel was half-dressed, pressed on top of him with one leg out and a knee braced against Sam’s hip, hands pinning his arms to the bed in an effort to still Sam’s struggling. Sam registered him saying, “Sammy! Sam, wake up!” And at the command, he did, at last. His body relaxed and he stopped fighting Gabriel’s weight, vaguely amazed that the man could actually keep him down. Something, _something_ wasn’t right about that, but his head was swimming so much so that he couldn’t focus on why. Gabriel released his arms and took Sam’s face in his hands, causing Sam to focus on Gabriel’s bright golden eyes instead.

 

“Breathe, in and out, Sam,” he heard Gabriel say, and again he obeyed. He sucked in a breath, then noticed Gabriel’s split lip. Automatically, his hand came up and wiped away the blood as he exhaled. Gabriel froze for a moment as Sam’s thumb smoothed over his lip, then he sighed and leaned slightly into the touch.

 

“It’s alright, Sam,” he said at Sam’s dazed look. “It’s over.”

 

“Are you ok?” Sam asked hoarsely.

 

Gabriel nodded, a glimmer of his smug smile sliding into place. “It’ll take more than that to hurt me, kiddo. It’s ok,” he murmured.

 

Sam clutched Gabriel’s forearms, locking him in place, until he felt a little more normal. The weight was reassuring, and he felt nearly broken at the loss of it when Gabriel finally sat upright.

 

“You have nightmares like this often?” Gabriel asked, running a soothing hand over Sam's knee.

 

Sam couldn’t find his voice, so instead he nodded. It’d been a while since he’d had a bad one, but they weren’t uncommon. Sam had always chalked it up as a side effect of the job but, in retrospect, Dean didn’t have the same problem he did. Maybe something was wrong with him, maybe—

 

“That’s enough now,” Gabriel said as he grasped Sam’s wrists gently. “You need to rest.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes flashed, and Sam felt himself growing very, very drowsy. As his eyes slid shut, he saw Gabriel smile. He must have imagined the soft touch of fingertips on his ribs before he drifted into a long, dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Sam awoke the next morning, it was to soft sunlight streaming in the window and the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. He stretched languorously, ribs aching much less than expected, before he staggered into the kitchen. His ankle still hurt like a bitch, but also significantly less than he thought it should’ve. Sam’s mind was still muzzy with sleep, but he felt something clicking into place when he thought about Gabriel and his ankle. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

 

Gabriel was standing in front of a gas stove, a polka-dotted apron tied around his waist and soft piano playing from his phone. He threw a grin over his shoulder when he noticed Sam sitting at the bar eyeing the ever-growing stack of pancakes.

 

“Help yourself, Sammoose. I got plenty more where those came from.”

 

Sam speared three pancakes and put them on a plate Gabriel had set out, covering them with mashed strawberries. He moaned as the first bite exploded on his tongue, and Gabriel chuckled.

 

“I’m gonna have to cook for you more if you’re going to make noises like that,” he said, flippantly tossing a pancake into the air.

 

Sam flushed and tore through three more pancakes then sat back, feeling a little sick to his stomach. Before he could even ask though, Gabriel filled a large glass with milk and set it down in front of him. Sam raised an eyebrow, but took a grateful drink.

 

“Now, movie time. I’ve got the perfect thing to rot our brains while we wait for Charlie,” Gabriel said as he heaped pancakes on his own plate and shuffled to the living room.

 

The movie turned into an all-day M*A*S*H marathon and the pair sat on the couch, gorging on pancakes and sandwiches around lunchtime, dozing here and there through the day. Gabriel’s commentary had Sam in stitches despite his aching ribs. Every time he laughed, Gabriel seemed to light up. But the sun was setting, and there had still been no word from Charlie.  Sam snuck worried glances at the phone Gabriel had set on the coffee table when he thought the man wasn't looking.  Then, Gabriel snuck closer until his knees touched Sam’s, easing his distress with simple contact.

 

"Don't worry," he heard Gabriel murmur.  "Charlie'll find him."

 

The rest of the evening passed with nothing, and the happy, domestic mood his host had provided was beginning to wear through.  What if Dean was lost?  What if he was hurt--which seemed very likely--or possibly dead?  Gabriel looked knowingly at him and, at last, helped him to his feet again.

 

"She just needs a little more time," he said, angling Sam back toward the bedroom when his eyes had begun to droop and Hawkeye didn't make sense anymore.  "And you need rest.  Just give it time."

 

Sam yawned, feeling heavy and drowsy, and let Gabriel steer him onto the soft mattress.  He only vaguely remembered getting underneath the covers, and the feeling of fingers pushing hair out of his face before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

Morning broke dim and rainy over the house, and Sam woke groggily to the smell of breakfast again.  This time, when he wandered into the kitchen, Gabriel had a bowl of oatmeal and fruit ready for him.  He accepted it with a sleepy smile, and he didn't miss the soft look that formed on his savior's features.  Sleep had made him feel better, even if Dean was still missing.  Gabriel's reminder rang in his head: time, he just needed time.  So Sam sat, tucked into his oatmeal and smiled across the table at Gabriel.  He felt…vaguely happy, with the domesticity of it all. He traced the curve of Gabriel’s neck with his eyes and decided he wouldn’t mind at all if—

 

Then the phone rang.

 

Gabriel lurched forward and grabbed the phone from the counter, answering it on speaker.  He set it on the table in front of Sam and plopped into the chair next to him, easing a hand onto the back of the taller man's chair so his fingers just brushed his shoulder.

 

“Charlie! Just the girl I was hopin’ to hear from. What’s the word, kiddo?” he said brightly, letting his fingers trace lines on Sam’s collar.

 

Sam opened his mouth to comment, but he heard Charlie sigh and froze. He’d know that kind of sigh anywhere.

 

“It’s bad,” Charlie said in a small, tinny voice. “Real bad.”

 

Gabriel’s smile dropped instantly and he sat up straight. “What happened? Charlie, what’s wrong?”

 

“They’ve got him, Gabe.” Sam felt the world stop. “I found his car parked a couple blocks away from where you found Sam.”

 

Gabriel shot Sam a concerned look. “You sure it wasn’t just parked?”

 

Charlie snorted. “I don’t know about you, but I get the feeling that Mr. Macho wouldn’t let just anybody drive that car. Some teenage monster took it for a spin not two hours ago.”

 

“Text Gabriel the address,” Sam said, “please. We’re on our way.”

 

“You need to stay here,” Gabriel said. “You’re not in any shape to take on a nest of vamps.”

 

Sam fixed Gabriel with a stony face. “He’s my brother, Gabriel. And I’m not letting you do this alone. Even if I can’t run, my arms still work.”

 

Gabriel looked apprehensive, but he acquiesced. “You heard the man, Charles. Text me.”

 

“Ok. You got it,” Charlie replied. The line dropped, then the phone buzzed, text received.

 

“Ok,” Gabriel echoed, abandoning all of their breakfast. “Let’s go.”

 

Sam changed into his jeans, grimacing when Gabriel wrapped his ankle tight again and helped him into his boots. God, that fucking hurt.  When at last he was dressed, he made for the front door until the shorter man stopped him.  Sam cocked his head, and Gabriel led him around the back of the kitchen to a washroom, then downstairs.  Sam looked around in amazement.

 

“Welcome to the armory,” Gabriel said with a grim smile.

 

Sam saw his machete hanging on the wall like it belonged. He pulled it down and hefted it in his hand, a question in his eyes.

 

“Help yourself,” Gabriel said, striding past him and grabbing a cross-strap holster from the wall. “We’re gonna need more than that.”

Sam glance over rows of knives and guns while Gabe strapped on the holster, and plucked two more blades from the wall and a syringe of dead man’s blood that he tucked into his pocket. Gabriel strapped two machetes to his back, shoved two more knives into his boots and a gun into the back of his jeans before grabbing a set of keys. With a gentle hand, he helped Sam back up the stairs and out to the garage. There, sitting quietly in the dark, was a sleek, black Rubicon. Gabriel opened the back, pushed aside two gas cans, and lifted the floorboard to reveal a gun collection to rival the Winchesters. Sam’s eyebrows crept up appreciatively while Gabriel inspected his ammo stock.

 

“Can’t be too prepared, Sammy,” he murmured before shutting it back up again.

 

Sam hoisted himself into the passenger seat as Gabriel fixed his phone in the GPS slot. “Compensating, are we?” he asked with a smirk.

 

“Don’t bet your ass, gorgeous,” Gabriel replied, waggling his eyebrows and turning the key. With a low rumble, the Rubicon roared to life. Gabriel shot Sam a wicked grin as he cranked the music and tore out of the drive.

 

* * *

 

Sam tensed when his brother’s car finally pulled into view. She didn’t have a scratch on her--thank god--and Sam blew out a hard breath.

“This is the place,” Gabriel murmured. He eased the Rubicon into an alleyway across the street from a derelict apartment complex. Lights were burning low in darkened windows, twinkling off residual raindrops on the blacktop. Sam stooped and followed Gabriel as he crept down the street. Then, Sam saw what he was looking for. A side door: no lights, no scouts. He motioned to Gabriel and snuck to the door. He gave the knob an experimental jiggle.

 

Locked.

 

Gabriel eased in between Sam's thighs and the door, lock-picks at the ready, pressing warm against him as Sam kept watch. With a quick clicking of gears, the door popped open. Gabriel stood and unsheathed his machetes, pressed a finger over his lips, and stepped warily into the building.

 

Sam cast around, looking for stairs but only saw another door. The room looked like an office, and the door opened to a hallway of doors. Sam cursed under his breath, then looked over when Gabriel caught his eye. He was pointing to the far end of the hall. Emergency stairs. Then he pointed down. Of course. It was far more likely that the vamps’ nest was under the cover of the basement. Miraculously, none of the doors opened between the office and the stairs as they inched their way down the hall. The fire door creaked open noisily and Sam winced.

 

There was nothing, nothing but a dank, empty stairwell below.

 

Gabriel took firm hold of Sam’s elbow as they descended. The stairs terminated at a solitary metal door. Sam glanced at Gabriel. One way in and out, as far as they could see. No other way. As soon as the door opened, they would be vulnerable. Sam pushed out a breath to calm himself, then nodded at Gabriel’s expectant gaze. The door swung open slowly and the bloodbath began.

 

* * *

 

Sam was a little preoccupied with the vampire currently impaled on the end of his machete. It wasn’t going to die until he took its head off, so it was flailing itself through the metal trying to reach him. Sam was also a little preoccupied by Gabriel. Or watching him, at least. He fought like he was in a bar brawl, throwing elbows and bowling vamps over with his shoulder like a lineman in spite of his size. He was working his way around the spacious basement, leaving a bloody trail of beheaded bodies behind him. He was a thing of beauty with two machetes in hand. Sam could proudly claim he’d killed four vamps out of the dozen or so that had jumped when the door opened. But Gabriel—he’d gotten six already and was facing off with the last two he’d backed into a corner. Sam refocused and managed to pull his smaller knife from his pants, sawing his way through muscle and tendons in the vamp’s neck even as it screamed. He punched it square in the jaw and with a sickening _crunch_ , the vamp’s neck broke, and it slumped off his knife and onto the floor. Sam stopped, eyes searching for Dean.

 

There.

 

His brother was beaten and bloody, tied to the wall in the far corner of the expansive room. Sam made a mad, hobbling dash to him.

 

“Dean! Dean, look at me,” he demanded, diving to his knees and looking his brother over quickly. He had cuts on his neck and forearms instead of bite marks Sam was expecting.

 

 _Shit_.

 

No sign of infection then, but these vamps were smart, keeping people alive to feed on them over time. By the smell of the room and the state of his brother, Sam guessed that Dean wasn’t their first victim. He slipped his knife under the ropes on Dean’s wrists and cut him free as the last vamp screamed horrifically in its final moments. Dean was unconscious, heavy, and Sam struggled against his aching ribs to pull his brother back toward the stairs. Then suddenly, Gabriel was at his side, knives sheathed, hoisting Dean over his shoulders in a fireman carry.  The man was covered in blood, vampire mixing with his own, a long, large gash traversing the planes of his face and spilling more blood onto the green of his canvas jacket.  

 

But his _eyes_...  His eyes were molten, golden fire and Sam could see the torn flesh on his face knitting back together.  Sam staggered back and stared, voice lost.

 

“Come on, Sammich,” Gabriel said softly, eyes dimming slightly. “Let’s not do this now.”

 

“What—what are you?” Sam gasped as Gabriel stepped forward, Dean light as a feather on his shoulders.

 

Gabriel offered a sincere smile, the muscles and tendons that had been slack now reformed. “Nothing that’s gonna hurt you.”

 

“I—”

 

“Sam.”

 

He stopped sputtering when his name fell from Gabriel’s tongue in that tone.

 

“I’m still on your side. We have to move,” Gabriel said, imploring him with normal, golden eyes. Sam nodded jerkily and firmly grasped his machete, limping quickly to the door. He held it open as Gabriel slipped underneath him and out.

 

They moved slowly up the stairs, Gabriel watching for more vamps as Sam stumbled. The hall doors were still closed when they reached the top, but as they neared the office a door swung open and instantly three vamps tried to flush out. Sam growled and decapitated the first, then stepped into the doorway, blocking the escape of the others.

 

“Sam!”

 

“Go, Gabriel,” he shouted, holding his position just inside the door. “Get Dean out of here!”

 

Gabriel made a noise of frustration then took off to the office. The vampires trapped in the room screamed strangely, modulating their terrible noises into a new pattern, and Sam cursed. They were calling for help. As quick as he could, he sliced the head off one and, when the other grappled and trapped him on the floor, he jabbed the syringe of dead man’s blood into its neck. Gabriel reappeared in the doorway, two red gas cans in hand.

 

“Get back out to the car, Sam!” he commanded. He frantically poured gas over the bodies of the vampires in the room, then winked. “I’m havin’ a barbecue!”

 

Sam huffed a laugh despite himself and rose from the floor in time to watch Gabriel sprint down the hall to the basement. Sam lurched out as fast as he could, ribs burning with the effort of breathing and ankle throbbing.  By the time he settled into the passenger seat, panting and holding his ribs, Gabriel slid in smelling like smoke and gasoline. A fiery orange light flickered in the windows as Gabriel peeled out of the alley, music pounding, then windows shattered and flames began to engulf the building.

 

Gabriel reached for his phone and dialed quickly. “Charlie!” he said over the music. “Job’s done! Clear us out! Got one unconscious incoming in need of stitches; we’re headin’ to the safe house now.” Charlie must have replied in the affirmative because Gabriel said, “Much obliged,” then hung up and tossed the phone onto the dashboard.

 

Sam expected a comment, a touch, a look, something, but Gabriel kept his eyes fixed on the road and hands firmly on the steering wheel. Sam glanced back at Dean. He was laying comfortably in the large backseat of the Rubicon, and Sam was thankful for that, but had questions burning on his tongue.  Instead, he swallowed them and settled for asking, “What’s the safe house?”

 

At last, Gabriel spared him a glance. “It’s headquarters,” he replied shortly, “and we can get your brother fixed up quick.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rest of the ride was silent, except for the soothing electronic music filtering from the speakers.  Sam stared firmly out the window, determined to keep his tongue.  At last, Gabriel eased the Rubicon into the basement garage of a squat concrete building out in a quiet industrial park and turned the car off with a sigh.

 

“For what’s its worth,” said Gabriel, “I’m sorry.”

 

Sam pursed his lips and bit back the acidic reply that popped into his mind. Instead, he opted to slide out of the leather seat and say, “I’m not sure what you have to be sorry for yet.”

 

There. That sounded more optimistic. Gabriel was apparently surprised, because his golden eyes widened a bit and he ducked his head. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said softly, offering Sam his hand palm up. “I’m not sure it’s worth hearing and it’s not a long story, but I’ll tell you.”

 

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Can we get Dean inside?” he asked. “Please?”

 

Gabriel nodded solemnly, then pulled Dean out of the backseat and back onto his shoulders. Sam followed him to a camera-surveyed elevator, still flummoxed over Gabriel’s strength as the elevator ascended.

 

The doors opened to a clean, official-looking, white room, and a man in a plaid jacket and a matronly Asian woman wheeled a cart forward.

 

“If you would, brother,” the man said in deep Louisiana twang, peeling back the covers on the hospital cart.

 

Gabriel gently laid Dean on the padded surface and stepped back as Sam came forward. The man pulled a penlight out of his shirt pocket and opened Dean’s eyes, looking into each one. The woman hung a bag of saline from the cart, quickly inserted an IV into Dean’s arm, and pushed Sam back gently.

 

“Go get cleaned up,” she said firmly. “We’ll take care of him.”

 

The man gripped Sam’s bicep in a comforting way and smiled. “Don’ you worry none. He’s in good hands.”

 

Gabriel placed a hand on his arm and squeezed gently when Dean was carted off behind a set of double doors. “Come on, Sam,” he said softly. “Let’s get you scrubbed up.”

 

Sam shrugged off his hand.  Gabriel looked at him, regret etched into his eyes, then led him to the showers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they were both clean, blood washed away and forgotten, Sam found Gabriel sitting in a comfortable parlor room of sorts. Sam sunk into a plush chair across from Gabriel and looked around.

 

“How did you ever afford all this?” he asked incredulously.

 

Gabriel perked up a little. “You can thank Charlie for that,” he replied. “The magic she can work on bank accounts is _unreal_.”

 

He seemed to clam up at his own words and Sam remembered why they were there and why Gabriel was sitting so far away.

 

“Tell me,” Sam prompted quietly. “What are you?”

 

Gabriel sighed and dropped his head. “I was telling the truth; moved out here to get a fresh start. Get away from Mommy and Daddy,” he said with a sick grin. “They’re the reason I am what I am.”

 

Sam sat stoically, raising an eyebrow.

 

“My father is a Witch,” Gabriel ground out. “My mother was his Familiar. Together, they had little old me and four other brothers and we got some of their powers.”

 

Sam stiffened. A Witch? _Jesus_. “What the _fuck_ , Gabriel?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you share your family history as soon as you meet someone?” Gabriel retorted angrily, fists clenched at his sides.

 

“No! But I sure as hell don’t put spells on people,” Sam protested, rising from his chair. His fingers itched to wrap around his knife. “I _hunt_ things like you! What was I feeling, a spell? Is that why I felt so—” Sam choked on the last word. _Happy, he’d felt happy like he hadn’t felt before. Was that real?_ The fight drained out of Gabriel and he looked stricken.

 

“Sam,” he said in a cracked voice. “I would never— I couldn’t— I’m not a witch! I can’t make you feel anything you don’t want to feel!”

 

Sam tensed his shoulders, staring down at Gabriel’s broken expression. “Fine, then,” he growled, “what are you?

 

“I’m not _anything_ , not really. I have a few powers, but I’m not a witch and I’m not a Familiar. Sam…”

 

“What powers?” Sam asked suspiciously.

 

Gabriel smiled sadly. “I can’t do magic, Sam,” he said, voice tired. “Not real magic, anyway. I have enough mojo to heal someone up quick, like I did with your cuts and scrapes, and enough to speed healing of broken bones.” He looked pointedly at Sam’s chest.

 

Sam relaxed minutely, running a hand absently over his cracked ribs. “So no hex bags, mind control spells…”

 

Gabriel shook his head firmly. “I got more of the Familiar powers than the witch powers. I’m ten times stronger than the average man. I once climbed the inner side of the Golden Gate Bridge with only my thumbs because I _could_. My physical endurance is through the roof. I can pick up on emotions and sometimes I can hear thoughts. And that’s it.”

 

Sam blushed. “So…you…heard me?”

 

Gabriel winced. “Yeah, sorry kiddo. I wasn’t actually listening in, but I heard a few…things jumping outta your brain. I’ve never heard anyone like I hear you.  Usually, that level of communication only happens when a Witch finds their Familiar, their life-pair or something.  In fact, I think if you thought something at me, I'd be able to hear you, easy.  So, I thought it’d be best to let you…go at your own pace.”

 

Sam cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.  Life-pair?   “What about the rest of your family?”

 

“What about them?” Gabriel asked sharply.

 

“They’ll be hunted, even if it gets around that you’ve defected,” Sam said. “Hunters aren’t known for their sentiment.”

 

Gabriel slumped. “I know,” he said despairingly. “Cas is safe if he’s with me. We’ve got the same kind of powers, or near enough; he’s more adept at healing souls than bodies.”

 

“What about the rest?” Sam asked gently. “How can you do this job when someone might be doing the same to them?”

 

“My father is a very powerful witch, Sam,” said Gabriel. “But he’s a good guy. Stills earthquakes and stops hurricanes off the West Coast when he can. He’s a retired CEO for Johnson and Johnson. For Christ sake, the man invented _Band-aids_. He doesn’t want to hurt people and he knows how to stay under the radar. My brothers though… I’ve warned them about using their magic. My two oldest brothers are just specks compared to my father, but they don’t have his control, you know? They’ve hurt people.”

 

Sam narrowed his eyes, but Gabriel continued. “I’ve warned them, if they kill someone, I can’t stop retribution. My father lied to us for years about our powers. It’s why I left, and why my brothers have so little control. They constantly beg for his attention, trying to prove they’re the best Witch out there. Since Cas and I more Familiar than Witch, my father used us to put a damper on their mojo. When my mother died ten years ago, we found out at the reading of her will and it just got worse. They’ve fought with magic, my brothers, and they almost killed each other. So I took Cas and left. He was eighteen, just a kid, and I was just twenty-one. But I couldn’t _leave him there_.”

 

Sam felt guilt pricking at his conscious. He picked himself up out of the chair and sat next to Gabriel on the couch, offering a sort of comfort in the brush of his shoulder against Gabriel’s.

 

Gabriel leaned into him and pulled a beaded chain out from under his shirt, showing Sam the amulet it held. “She made charms for us on her deathbed,” he said, a deep sadness lacing his voice as he traced the pattern of a devil’s trap. “To protect us from dark magic, and to keep us from trying to cast it.” He chuckled and Sam felt some of the sadness leech out in the slump of his shoulders. “She made it into an earring for Cas, the fashion-conscious fucker.”

 

Sam smiled widely, thinking of the stoic brother he’d seen in pictures, picturing a large gold hoop hanging from one ear.

 

“So here we are,” Gabriel said with a snort. “I teamed up with Charlie after she tried to take my head off, and we founded this little group. Our own little wayward family business.”

 

 

"So this...what I feel," Sam said slowly, "that's what, if not a spell?"

 

Gabriel looked apprehensive.  "I swear to whatever deity still listens, I'm not forcing anything on you.  Whatever you feel is whatever you felt to begin with.  It just...starts the rest."

 

"And what's the rest?"

 

"It's a kind of bond, similar to how Witches and Familiars bond.  It's a tether between two people, created by the Familiar.  I feel what you feel."

 

Sam frowned.  "Why can't I feel anything from you?"

 

"It's incomplete," Gabriel admitted, still staring at the floor.  "It won't stay if you don't want it to."

 

Sam felt relief flooding through him. He hadn’t realized just how important Gabriel was becoming to him, how much his honesty meant to him. Gabriel looked vulnerable, lost and dampened, and Sam hated himself in that moment. He tentatively put a hand on Gabriel’s thigh in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, then a thought sparked ugly in his mind.

 

“What will happen if you meet a Witch?” Sam asked, feeling a prick of jealousy and  apprehension. “Can they make you be their Familiar?”

 

“I’m not all Familiar, Sammich. I don’t need a Witch for my powers to work, and they can’t put any spells on me. They’ll try anything, nearly,” he said with a feral smile. “The last one that touched me lost a few limbs and ended up in a hole on fire.  Besides, I've never had the right connection with anyone be--”  He paused, biting his tongue, then he hung his head.  "Before you, anyway."

 

Sam felt pride and desire ripple through him. Sam knew his own abilities were nothing to be sneezed at but this, this was whole new territory. It was viciousness in Gabriel’s eyes. He’d probably been defending himself against Hunters and Witches’ advances for years. The bastards could likely smell the Familiar blood in his veins. The set of his shoulders told Sam Gabriel was powerful. And Sam _liked it_.  The connection that he'd felt the first time Gabriel had touched him, that elusive spark, fanned into a flame when he realized just what Gabriel had meant. The shorter man stiffened, and Sam remembered abruptly that he could hear his thoughts. He licked his lips distractedly and glanced at Gabriel’s skittish honey eyes, then thought _fuck it all_.

 

He leaned forward and pressed his lips Gabriel’s, hand latching on to the back of his neck to pull him closer. Gabriel opened for him with a beautiful moan, nipped at his bottom lip with sharp teeth. Gabriel pushed forward and Sam sunk back into the couch as Gabriel scrambled on top of him. He rocked against Sam, burying his teeth in the meat of Sam’s chest. Sam groaned and stroked his hands down Gabriel’s back to his ass and grabbed. Gabriel ground his hips down against Sam, but fumbled slightly when he lost his grip on the couch. Sam chuckled breathlessly, but stopped instantly when Gabriel pinned his hands against the couch.

 

“I think,” Sam said between bites on Gabriel's throat, “we should go somewhere a little bigger.”

 

Gabriel nodded fervently and sat up. Sam followed, sneaking an arm around him and sucking a bruise into his collarbone. Gabriel growled and clambered off Sam’s hips, hauling him off the couch and out a small door in the corner of the room. The hallway was narrow, almost too narrow for Sam’s shoulders, and Gabriel crowded into his space. Sam let his hands wander until the shorter man forced a knee between Sam’s thighs and shoved him against the wall. Sam moaned at the restriction.

 

“This is _not_ bigger, Gabriel,” Sam ground out.

 

Gabriel growled in frustration and kissed Sam fiercely. “Come on.”

 

The narrow hall opened into a bigger one, and Sam nearly had to run to keep up. At last, he stopped at a door and shoved Sam inside. He only got a quick glance of a nondescript room before Gabriel was pushing him back up against the bed, pushing his knees out from under him as he fell back onto the mattress. Gabriel crawled up his body and settled back on his hips. Sam pawed in frustration at Gabriel’s jeans, aching to see him bare.

 

“Come on, Sam,” Gabriel said, pinning his arms to the bed. “Haven’t you heard of foreplay?”

 

Sam struggled against Gabriel’s hands and felt a rush of lust when he realized he couldn’t move. “Foreplay round two?” Sam compromised incoherently.

 

Gabriel’s pupils blew wide and he shoved Sam up the bed, expertly wrestling his jeans and boots off. Sam pulled his shirt over his head and Gabriel pulled his underwear off. When he could see again, Gabriel had fixed him with a hungry gaze.

 

“Come on,” Sam echoed, pulling at Gabriel’s shirt. “Not fair. Off.”

 

Gabriel straightened and slowly pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing tan skin by inches. Sam felt his mouth go dry when he saw the marks he’d left standing out starkly. Gabriel eased his jeans and pants down and off, cock springing free and bobbing obscenely. Sam took his own  in hand, lazily stroking as Gabriel crawled slowly back up the bed. Gabriel was big, a lot bigger than Sam was expecting, and he shivered with anticipation.

 

Gabriel dug through the beside drawer. “Ahha!” His hand reemerged, condom and a bottle in tow. Sam heard a faint _pop_ and watched as Gabriel drizzled lube onto his fingers. Sam held his breath, and one of Gabriel’s hands closed loosely around Sam’s cock, the other probed gently a little lower when Sam let his knees fall open. Sam let his eyes flutter closed for a moment when Gabriel gently pushed a digit inside him, gasping when he crooked his finger and brushed against _just_ the right spot. Sam tilted his hips and thrust into and onto Gabriel’s hands. God, he couldn’t decide if he was coming or going. He heard Gabriel laugh above him.

 

“Get out of my head,” he moaned.

 

Gabriel released his cock and leaned forward, burying two fingers in him. “I like it in your head,” he murmured against Sam’s chest. He kissed gently just above Sam’s cracked ribs, sucked a nipple between his teeth, and kissed his way down the flat plane of his stomach. Gabriel paused and Sam could barely lift his head to see what he was doing. Gabriel knelt, poised, waiting for Sam to look. When Sam met his eyes, Gabriel swallowed his cock down in one long, slow slide, pushing three fingers into his ass at the same time. Sam’s head fell back and he moaned brokenly as Gabriel hollowed his cheeks and swirled his tongue around the head of his cock.

 

“Gabriel, please.” Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, but he hoped that Gabriel could hear the litany of _want, need, now now now_ in his head.

 

Apparently, he could. Gabriel sucked in a breath and rolled the condom on as fast as he could manage, then he was pressing the blunt head of his cock into him. Sam wrapped his ankles around Gabriel’s waist and pulled him forward, smiling in a decidedly lustful, smug manner when Gabriel gasped. God, he was bigger than he looked. Sam felt incredibly, indelibly full and he wanted to _move_. Gabriel braced his hands on Sam’s shoulders, pushing him into the bed and fulfulling his wish. He pulled back with a slow, tortuous drag, then that was the end of nice and easy.

 

Gabriel was as brutal in bed as he was in a fight. He set a punishing pace and manhandled Sam in a way he’d never experienced. Sam matched him, thrust for thrust, limbs shaking with exertion and chest heaving. His ribs ached dully, but he saw Gabriel’s eyes flash, and a lance of numbness filtered through his chest and out his limbs.

 

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Sam gasped. “Oh god…”

 

Gabriel smiled. “Sam, Samsamsamsam. You’re amazing, gorgeous, phenomenal.”

 

Every utterance of his name was musical, making Sam’s rush climb higher and higher. Gabriel’s praise went to his head and drove their frenzied pace harder. The Familiar let more flow from his lips, punctuating each piece of admiration with a thrust of his lips, and Sam grabbed hold of Gabriel’s forearms for dear life. Sam felt heat curling low under his skin, building to a crescendo, until Gabriel dug his fingers into the flesh of his hips.  The man's voice was in his ears and in his mind, filtering through his veins and creating music of his flesh. Then he was falling, over and over and over, and Gabriel was following.

 

Gabriel shuddered to a stop, but he didn’t collapse onto Sam’s tender ribs. Instead, he planted a hand on the side of Sam’s waist and pulled him up for a searing kiss. Sam panted and twined his tongue with Gabriel’s until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore and flopped onto the mattress. Gabriel smiled smugly and pulled away, laying one more kiss on Sam’s throat before he stumbled to the bathroom and returned with a wet cloth. Sam lay still and let his body cool while Gabriel wiped them down gently.

 

“Still up for round two, tiger?” Gabriel asked, nuzzling Sam’s ear affectionately.

 

Sam didn’t really reply, just grabbed Gabriel and the covers and rolled into the soft downy mattress.

 

“I expect good foreplay in the morning,” Gabriel mumbled from Sam’s chest.

 

Sam splayed out on the huge bed and kept Gabriel close, murmuring his agreement in syllables. He felt Gabriel press a kiss to the tattoo on his chest then settle in close.

 

“Will we be ok, in the morning?” Gabriel asked in a small voice.

 

At that, Sam opened his eyes and held Gabriel tight. “Of course we will.  We'll talk, and we'll be ok,” he said softly.

 

Gabriel smiled at him at last and settled back against Sam’s chest. When Sam finally drifted off to sleep, his dreams were of a golden summer.

 

* * *

 

Sam awoke in a slight panic. But he calmed when he realized Gabriel was not gone, he was just curled onto his side on the other side of the bed. Sam reached and pulled Gabriel flush against him, snuggling the back of Gabriel’s neck with his nose and stroking his chest with nimble fingers.

 

“Whazzit? Meh?” Gabriel mumbled sleepily.

 

Sam gave Gabriel a wicked grin and shuffled down under the covers, taking Gabriel’s slowly hardening cock in his hand.

 

“I promised foreplay, remember?” Sam asked just before he sucked the head of Gabriel’s cock into his mouth.

 

He heard Gabriel moan and set about trying to count the ways he could make the man make that sound again.

 

* * *

 

When they finally managed to make it out of bed, Sam asked Gabriel to take him to the infirmary. Gabriel wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist—not because he needed help anymore, but because he wanted to—and led him down the hallways back to the double doors. Sam looked around apprehensively but relaxed when he saw Dean. His brother was snoring soundly in one of a row of hospital beds, IVs removed and stitches in place. His face looked less swollen and the man who had taken him back on the cart—Benny, Gabriel had said—smiled gamely at them before slipping from the room. Sam pulled up a chair next to Dean and sat and watched for a few minutes, Gabriel standing easily by his side.  For a moment, Gabriel's eyes flashed, and Sam watched some of the bruises on his brother's face fade to nothing.  Sam leaned his head over against Gabriel’s hip and sighed.

 

“He’ll want to leave when he wakes up,” Sam muttered. He felt Gabriel tense beside him.

 

“I know,” he replied. Sam didn’t say anything more and, for a few minutes, the room was quiet except for Dean’s snoring.

 

“I—”

 

Sam looked up at Gabriel as the man tried to form words.

 

“Sam, I…want this to be something for you. Something as much as I think it’s going to be for me.  Familiar bonds aren't fickle things; they last,” Gabriel said softly.

 

Sam smiled. “I think it’s going to be fine,” he said, wrapping an arm around Gabriel’s knees.

 

“Then call this home,” Gabriel said earnestly. "Even if we don't work out, you should have a place to call home."

 

Sam sat forward and turned back. Gabriel’s face was so open, so earnest, and Sam smiled gently.

 

“Ok,” he declared.

 

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “So you’ll come back? When you’re done with your hunts, you’ll come back here?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” Sam said seriously.

 

Gabriel gently took Sam’s face in his hands and kissed him slowly. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was more than he’d ever had before. And Sam could live with that.

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately for Dean, it meant that he met Gabriel ass first when he caught his brother necking down in the infirmary hallway. He got an introduction and a short explanation and an even shorter time to talk to Sam before the short, compact dude was hauling Sam out of there. After a better version of the story told over coffee with a nurse named Benny, Dean shook his head in exasperation. Then, he nearly prayed that Bobby had something for them to do soon when he caught them in the safe house’s kitchen a few days later. When he finally shoved Sam into the passenger seat of the Impala a week later, Gabriel making faces at them as they left his suburban house, he breathed a sigh of relief. Surely that would be the end of that obnoxious family for a while…


End file.
